FROM   THE  LIBRARY  OF 


REV.    LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.   D.  D. 


BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY   OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


LEAKY, 

Bookseller, 

Mh  &  Walnut 

Philada. 


n 


DAILY    HYMNS. 


'riiiR,TY-SECo:N-r) 


ANNIYERSARY  OF  SUNDAY  SCHOOLS, 


ST.  JOHN'S  PARISH,  AVATERBURY. 


E.   P.    DUTTOX    AND    COMPANY, 

Boston  :  135  Washington  Strkkt. 

New  York  :  762  Broadway. 

1868. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  18G7,  by 

E.  r.  DUTTON  AND  COMPANY, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  District 
of  Massacliusetts. 


l^^ilV  ip^tnn^. 


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A  SH-  WEDNESDA  Y. 

AY  of  wrath,  that  clay  of  burning, 
Seer  and  Sibyl  speak  concerning, 


All  the  world  to  ashes  turning. 

Oh,  what  fear  shall  it  engender, 

Wlien  the  Judge  shall  come  in  splendor, 

Strict  to  mark,  and  just  to  render. 

Trumpet  scattering  sounds  of  wonder, 
Rending  sepulchres  asunder, 
Shall  resistless  summons  thunder. 


All  aghast  then  Death  shall  shiver, 
And  great  Nature's  frame  shall  quiver. 
When  the  graves  their  dead  deliver. 


DAILY  HYMNS. 

Book  where  actions  are  recorded, 

All  the  ages  have  afforded 

Shall  be  brought,  and  dooms  awarded. 

When  shall  sit  the  Judge  unerring, 
He  '11  unfold  all  here  occurring, 
No  just  vengeance  then  deferring. 

What  shall  I  say,  that  time  pending  ? 
Ask  what  advocate's  befriending, 
When  the  just  man  needs  defending. 

Dreadful  King,  all  power  possessing, 

Saving  freely  those  confessing. 

Save  Thou  me,  0  Fount  of  Blessing ! 

Think,  O  Jesus,  for  what  reason 

Thou  didst  bear  earth's  spite  and  treason, 

Nor  me  lose  in  that  dread  season! 

Seeking  me  Thy  worn  feet  hasted. 
On  the  cross  Thy  soul  death  tasted : 
Let  such  travail  not  be  wasted ! 


ASH-WEDXI-SDAy. 

Righteous  Judge  of  retribution  ! 
Make  me  gift  of  absolution, 
Ere  that  day  of  execution  ! 

Culprit-like  I   plead,  heart-broken, 
On  my  cheek  Shame's  crimson  token ; 
Let  the  pardoning  words  be  spoken ! 

Thou  who  Mary  gav'st  remission, 
Heard'st  the  dying  thiefs  petition, 
Cheer  with  hope  my  lost  condition  ! 

Though  my  prayers  be  void  of  merit, 
What  is  needful  Thou  confer  it, 
Lest  I  endless  fire  inherit. 

Be  there,  Lord,  my  place  decided 
With  Thy  sheep,  from  goats  divided, 
Kindly  to  Thy  right  hand  guided. 

When  the  accursed  away  are  driven. 

To  eternal  burnings  given. 

Call  me  with  the  blessed  to  Heaven  1 


DAILY  HYMNS. 

I  beseech  Thee,  prostrate  lying, 
Heart  as  ashes,  contrite,  sighing, 
Care  for  me  when  I  am  dying ! 

Day  of  tears  and  late  repentance, 
Man  shall  rise  to  hear  his  sentence  : 
Him,  the  child  of  guilt  and  error. 
Spare,  Lord,  in  that  hour  of  terror ! 

Thomas  of  Celano. 


THURSDAY  AFTER   ASH-WEDNESDAY. 

FORTH  from  the  dark  and  stormy  sky, 
Lord,  to  Thine  altar's  shade  we  fly: 
Forth  from  the  world,  its  doubt  and  fear, 
Saviour,  we  seek  Thy  refuge  here  : 
Weary  and  weak,  Thy  grace  we  pray  — 
Turn  not,  O  Lord,  Thy  guests  away  ! 

Long  have  we  roamed  in  want  and  pain  ; 
Long  have  we  sought  Thy  rest  in  vain: 
Wildered  in  doubt,  in  darkness  lost, 
Long  have  our  souls  been  tempest-tost : 
Low  at  Thy  feet  our  sins  we  lay  — 
Turn  not,  0  Lord,  Thy  guests  away! 

Bishop  Hkber. 


FRIDAY  AFTER   ASH-WEDNESDAY, 

LORD,  many  times  I  am  aweary  quite 
Of  mine  own  self,  my  sin,  my  vanity  — 
Yet  be  not  Thou,  or  I  am  lost  outright, 
Weary  of  me. 

And  hate  against  myself  I  often  bear, 

And  enter  with  myself  in  fierce  debate : 
Take  Thou  my  part  against  myself,  nor  share 
In  that  just  hate ! 

Best  friends    might  loathe    us,  if   what    things 
perverse 
We  know  of  our  own  selves,  they  also  knew. 
Lord,  Holy  One !  if  Thou  who  knowest  worse 
Shouldst  loathe  us  too ! 

R.  C.  Trench. 


SATURDAY  AFTER   ASH-WEDNESDAY. 

FAITH  calmeth  every  care  — 
0  heart,  be  still! 
There  falls  no  single  hair 

Without  God's  will. 
Even  here  the  Lord  bestows 

'Mid  toil  His  rest ; 
And  soon  will  come  repose, 
Where  all  is  blest. 

Faith  drieth  every  tear  — 

O  look  above  ! 
Commit  to  Him  each  fear 

Whose  name  is  Love. 
He  knows  what  needful  is, 

His  ways  are  just ; 
All,  all  the  care  is  His, 

And  thine  the  trust. 


DAILY  nrMNS. 

Faith  nerves  the  trembling  soul 

With  strength  serene ; 
High  o'er  the  waves  that  roll, 

Its  star  is  seen. 
O  heart!  that  star  hath  shone 

In  life's  dark  days  : 
In  death  it  shineth  on, 

"With  Heaven's  own  rays. 

Faith  has  its  triumph  song 

In  grief  and  care  — 
The  nifijht  will  not  be  long ; 

The  morn,  how  fair ! 
O  Faith  !  thy  very  tears 

Are  jewels  bright : 
How  soon  shall  endless  years 

Crown  thee  as  Sight ! 

F.    HlLLKK. 


FIRST  SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 

LORD,  I  must  walk  with  Thee, 
Not  follow  distantly- 
Only  Thine  arm  can  raise, 
Only  Thy  loving  gaze 
Bid  earthly  hopes  depart. 
And  fill  my  longing  heart. 

Therefore  not  only  say, 
"  Arise,  and  come  away  ! '' 
But  come  Thou  to  my  side, 
Embrace,  and  onward  guide  ; 
And,  as  life's  trials  press. 
Help  Thou  my  helplessness. 


Saviour,  I  w^ill  not  grieve 
For  Thee  my  all  to  leave. 
Thou  whisperest  pleadingly, 
"  Do  it  for  love  of  Me  ! " 


10  DAILY  HYMNS. 

Looking  up  in  Thine  eyes, 
How  light  the  sacrifice  ! 

What  things  I  prized  before 
I,  one  by  one,  give  o'er  ;  » 
All  that  my  life  could  bless, 
Earth's  love,  earth's  happiness. 
Lord,  do  not  Thou  forsake  — 
Then,  then  my  heart  would  break ! 

No,  Thou  dost  these  recall 
Only  to  give  me  all, — 
All  that  is  hid  in  Thee,  — 
Thy  love.  Thy  sympathy. 
My  Saviour,  at  Thy  side 
My  soul  is  satisfied ! 

Close  to  Thee  would  I  cling, 
Closer  in  suffering. 
Heavy  may  be  the  night, 
In  Thee  I  find  my  light. 
The  way  I  cannot  see  — 
I  care  not,  't  is  with  Thee. 


FIRST   SUNDAY  IN  LENT.  11 

Though  life's  dark  clouds  may  hide 
Earth's  pleasure  and  its  pride, 
What  matters  it  to  me  ? 
So  that  they  hide  not  Thee. 
Let  yon  poor  stars  decline, 
If  the  full  Sun  but  shine. 

Only  for  this  I  pray, — 
Turn  not  Thy  face  away  ! 
Let  me  but  hear  Thy  voice. 
And  love,  if  not  rejoice ! 
Then  darkness  shall  be  light, 
Then  faith  shall  turn  to  sight ; 
Till,  safe  at  home,  my  heart 
Shall  know  Thee  as  Thou  art. 


MONDA  Y. 


s 


ORROW  now  the  harp  is  stringing 
For  the  everlasting  singing, 


Teaching  us  to  soar  above  ; 
Where  the  blessed  choir,  palm-bearing, 
Harps  are  playing,  crowns  are  wearing. 

Round  the  Throne  with  songs  of  love. 

Sorrow  makes  our  faith  abiding. 
Lowly,  childlike,  and  confiding  ; 

Sorrow,  who  can  speak  thy  grace  ! 
Though  on  earth  called  tribulation, 
Heaven  has  nobler  appellation : 

Not  thus  honored  all  our  race. 

Though  the  healthful  powers  were  willing, 
All  tiie  Master's  will  fulfilling, 

By  obedience  to  be  tried ; 
Yet  *t  is  still  no  less  a  blessing. 
Such  a  Master's  care  possessing, 

In  His  furnace  to  abide. 


MONDAY.  13 

In  the  depth  of  keenest  anguish, 
More  and  more  the  heart  will  languish 

After  Jesus'  loving  heart. 
For  one  blessing  only  crying  — 
Make  me  like  Thee  in  Thy  dying, 

Then  Thy  endless  life  impart ! 

Till  at  length,  with  sighs  all  breaking, 
Through  each  bond  its  passage  taking, 

Lo,  the  veil  is  rent  in  twain  ! 
AVho  remembers  now  life's  sorrow  ? 
Cloudless  shines  that  bright  To-morrow 

Over  earth's  long  night  of  pain. 

Hartmann. 


TUESDAY. 

OLORD,  my  heart's  chief  treasure ! 
That  heart  Thou  wilt -not  leave. 
With  Thee  even  pain  is  pleasure, 
Without  Thee  joy  would  grieve. 
Heaven  has  no  bliss  to  win  nie 

Save  what  it  draws  from  Thee ; 
Come,  Lord,  and  dwell  within  me  ! 
Then  life  a  heaven  shall  be. 

Bring  all  that  fancy  offers, 

Or  poet's  heart  could  paint; 
Wealth  in  its  golden  coffers. 

Love  without  sorrow's  taint ; 
How  poor,  how  w^eak  their  blessing 

AVhen  Thou  art  known  aright! 
Shall  we,  the  Sun  possessing. 

Turn  to  the  stars  for  light? 

Sunshine  in  life's  dark  hours, 
Fount  in  its  desert  ways, 


TUESDAY.  15 

Refuge  when  tempest  lowers, 

Hope  in  its  dreaiy  days  ! 
Such  art  Thou,  Lord,  in  sadness, 

And  oh,  in  joy  how  bright ! 
The  very  Life  of  gladness, 

The  very  Light  of  light. 

The  waste  a  garden  seemeth 

Beneath  Thy  loving  eyes  ; 
Thy  smile  in  darkness  beameth, 

And  thousand  stars  arise. 
O  guide  me  as  Thou  wiliest ! 

Through  waters  calm  or  wild ; 
Thy  voice  the  tempest  stilleth. 

Thy  hand  shall  lead  Thy  child. 

Since  naught  from  Thee  can  sever, 

Then  take  which  way  is  best  ; 
Only  be  with  me  ever, 

In  battle  as  in  rest. 
Then  sorrow  shall  not  grieve  me. 

And  pain  be  all  forgot ; 
My  Lord,  I  will  not  leave  Thee  : 

O  Jesus,  leave  me  not! 

F.  Meter. 


WEDNESDAV. 

MATINS. 

GOD    of   the    morning !    we    bow    at   Thine 
altar, 
Low  at  Thy  footstool  for  mercy  we  kneel. 
Why    should    our    steps    at    Thy    temple-gate 
falter  ? 
Here    Thou  hast    promised    Thy  love  to  re- 
veal. 

God  of  the  morning  !  this  sweet,  sunlit  quiet 
Calms  us  to  conquer  the  toils  of  the  day: 

Wild  in  the  world  human  passions  run  riot ; 
Guide  Thou    our  steps    in    Thy  heavenward 
way  ! 

God  of  the  morning  !    to  shield  from    tempta- 
tion, 
Bid  us  remember  the  spells  of  the  place: 


WE  ONES  DA  r.  17 

There,  at  yon  Font,  spake  our  life's  dedication ; 
There,  at  yon  altar,  we  knelt  for  Thy  grace. 

God  of  the  morning !    the  love  that  has   kept 
us. 
On  through  life's  journey  forever  shall  keep. 
Sunshine  may  fail,  but  Thy  light  shall  be  left 
us  ; 
While    Thou  art   smiling    Thy  child    cannot 
weep. 

God  of  the  morning !  to  labor  returning, 
Now  we  would  carry  Thy  blessing  away : 

Oh,  be  Thy  love  on  our  heart's  altar  burning ; 
Oh,  be  Thy  presence  our  comfort  and  stay ! 

God  of  the  morning !   Thy  sunshine  is  stream- 
ing 
Far  over  earth  with  its  care  and  its  strife ; 
So  may  Thy  love  in  its  purity  beaming. 
Light  up  the  by-ways  and  shadows  of  life ! 

A.  G.  R. 
2 


THURSDA  Y. 

EVENSONG. 

DAY'S  weary  work  is  done. 
Our  spirits  yearn  for  rest; 
Surely  yon  golden  sun 

Is  in  his  setting  blest. 
He  sinks  in   Heaven's  light, 

We  in  earth-darkness  pine ; 
Oh,  rise  upon  our  night, 
Saviour  divine ! 

Soft  as  a  voice  from  Heaven 
The  bells  of  evening  peal ; 

Has  there  no  balm   been  given, 
These  earthly  woes  to  heal  ? 

Yon  cross-crowned  tower  smiles 
Through  the  sweet  twilight  air  ; 

Enter  those  sacred  aisles. 

And  kneel  in  prayer. 


THURSDA  Y.  19 

The  world's  rude  strife  and  din 
Back  from  this  Temple  flee  ; 

There  's  Heaven's  o^^Tl  rest  within, 
And  Heaven's  serenity. 

The  anthem's  solemn  tone 
Peals  grandly  on  the  ear ;  — 

Alone,  yet  not  alone, 

For  God  is  here. 

Thou  who  canst  give  the  peace 
Which  earth  takes  not  away, 

Bid  all  the  sorrows  cease 
That  cloud  life's  little  day ! 

Thy  light  and  truth  fail  never. 
Though  we  in  darkness  range  ; 

Our  hearts  are  changing  ever, 
Thine  cannot  change. 

Oh,  let  this  quiet  hour, 

This  sacred,  sunset  rest, 
This  silent  church  have  power 

To  calm  the  fevered  breast ! 


DAILY  HYMNS. 

Out  from  the  world  we  come 

To  Thee,  at  close  of  day. 

Meet  us  in  this  Thy  home, — 

Bless  us  alway ! 


A.  G.  R. 


FRIDAY. 

I  WAS  wandering  and  weary, 
When  my  Saviour  came  unto  me  ; 
For  the  ways  of  sin  grew  dreary, 

And  the  world  had  ceased  to  woo  me 
And  I  thought  I  heard  Him  say, 
As  He  came  along  His  way, 

0  silly  souls  !  come  near  Me  ; 
My  sheep  should  never  fear  Me  ; 

1  am  the  Shepherd  true. 

At  first  I  would  not  hearken, 
And  put  off  till  the  morrow  ; 

But  life  began  to  darken, 

And  I  was  sick  with  sorrow : 

And  I  thought  I  heard  Him  say, 

As  He  came  along  His  way, 


22  DAILY  HYMNS. 

0  silly  souls  !  come  near  Me  ; 
My  sheep  should  never  fear  Me  ; 

1  am  the  Shepherd  true. 

At  last  I  stopped  to  listen, 

His  voice  could  not  deceive  me  ; 

I  saw  His  kind  eyes  glisten, 
So  anxious  to  relieve  me  : 

And  I  thought  I  heard  Him  say, 

As  He  came  along  His  way, 

0  silly  souls  I  come  near  Me  ; 
My  sheep  should  never  fear  Me  ; 

1  am  the  Shepherd  true. 

Jle  took  me  on   Ilis  shoulder, 
And  tenderly  He  kissed  me  ; 

He  bade  my  love  be  bolder. 

And  said  how  He  had  missed  me  : 

And  I  'm  sure  I  heard  him  say. 

As  He  went  along  His  way, 

0  silly  souls  !  come  near  Me  ; 
My  sheep  should  never  fear  Me ; 

1  am  the  Shepherd  true. 


Fin  DA  y.  23 

Strange  gladness  seemed  to  move  Him, 

Whenever  I  did  better ; 
And  He  coaxed  me  so  to  love  Him, 

As  if  He  were  my  debtor : 
And  I  always  heard  Him  say, 
As  He  went  along  His  way, 

0  silly  souls  1  come  near  Me ; 
My  sheep  should  never  fear  Me  ; 

1  am  the  Shepherd  true. 

I  thought  His  love  would  weaken 
As  more  and  more  He  knew  me  ; 

But  it  burnetii  like  a  beacon. 

And  its  light  and  heat  go  through  me. 

And  T  ever  hear  Hiin  say. 

As  He  goes  along  His  way, 

0  silly  souls  !  come  near  ]\Ie ; 
My  sheep  should  never  fear  Me  ; 

1  am  the  Shepherd  true. 

Let  us  do  then,  dearest  brothers, 

What  will  best  and  longest  please  us  ; 

Follow  not  the  ways  of  others. 
But  trust  oiu'selves  to  Jesus  : 


24 


DAILY  HYMNS. 


We  shall  ever  hear  Him  say, 
As  He  goes  along  His  way, 

0  silly  souls !  come  near  Me  ; 
My  sheep  should  never  fear  Me  ; 

1  am  the  Shepherd  true. 

F.  AV.  Faber. 


SATURDAY. 

MY  God,  I  thank  Thee,  who  hast  made 
The  earth  so  bright; 
So  full  of  splendor  and  of  joy, 

Beauty  and  light ; 
So  many  glorious  things  are  here, 
Noble  and  right ! 

I  thank  Thee,  too,  that  Thou  hast  made 

Joy  to  abound ; 
So  many  gentle  thoughts  and  deeds 

Circling  us  round. 
That  in  the  darkest  spot  of  earth 

Some  love  is  found. 

r  thank  Thee  more  that  all  our  joy 

Is  touched  with  pain  ; 
That  shadows  fall  on  brightest  hours  ; 

That  thorns  remain  ; 
So  that  earth's  bliss  may  be  our  guide, 

And  not  our  chain. 


26  DAILY   HY.UNS. 

For  Thou  who  knowest  Lord,  how  soon 

Our  weak  heart  clings, 
Hast  given  us  joys,  tender  and  true, 

Yet  all  witii  wings. 
So  that  we  see,  gleaming  on  higli, 

Diviner  things  ! 

I  thank  Tliee,  Lord,  that  Thou  hast  kept 

The  best  in  store. 
We  have  enough,  yet  not  too  nuich 

To  long  for  more  ; 
A  yearning  for  a  deeper  peace. 

Not  known  before. 

I  tliank  Thee,  Lord,  that  here  our  souls, 

Though  amply  blest. 
Can  never  find,  although  they  seek, 

A  perfect  rest,  — 
Nor  ever  shall,  until  they  lean 

On  Jesus'  breast ! 

A.  A.  Proctor. 


SECOND   SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 

GOD  knows  the  best ! 
His  love  can  make  life's  darkness  clear, 
Chase  the  heart's  winter 'from  the  breast, 

And  send  a  summer  all  the  year. 
The  souls  who  yield  to  Him  are  blest 

With  foretastes  of  their  heavenly  cheer ; 
And  earthly  strife  or  earthly  rest 
It  matters  not  when   Home  is  near. 


God  knows  the  way  ! 

Trust  Him  to  lead  thy  steps  aright. 
Oh  let  the  path  be  what  it  may, 

'T  is  smooth  to  faith,  though  rough  to  sight ! 
Seek  not  earth's  sunshine,  nor  delay 

By  pastures  green  and  waters  bright ; 
For  earthly  night  or  earthly  day 

It  matters  little  in   His  li  dit. 


28  DAILY  HYMNS. 

God  knows  the  end  ! 
His  is  the  Land  of  love  divine  : 
Thither  thy  journey  all  shall  tend 

Through  storms  that  beat,  or  suns  that  shine. 
He  shall  from  every  ill  defend, 

Though  all  against  thy  soul  combine  ; 
And  earthly  foe  or  earthly  friend 
It  matters  not,  if  He  is  thine  ! 

A.  G.  R. 


MONDA  Y. 

WHO  to  the  end  endures, 
Through  earthly  lures, 
Through  the  world's  fight  and  frown, 

Shall  win  the  crown. 
But  oh  !  what  hours  of  pain, 

What  struggles  vain, 
What  foes,  what  trials  great 

His  heart  await ! 
Faith  on  life's  battle-field 

Must  never  yield  ! 

There  's  many  a  weary  night  . 

In  that  fierce  fight ; 
And  the  strength  may  not  fail, 

Nor  the  heart  quail, — 
For  dauntless  faith  must  dare 

Death  and  despair. 
But,  O  my  God !  Thine  own 

Are  not  alone  : 
Thou  comest  in  the  strife, — 

The  Life  of  life  ! 


30  DAILY   HYMNS. 

Then  courage,  brothers,  come  ! 

Yonder  '.s  our  home,  — 
Beyond  the  battle's  heat. 

Serene  and  sweet. 
Lay  not  our  weapons  down  : 

First  Cross,  then  Crown  ! 
By  the  brave  heart  and  hand 

The  Lord  doth  stand  ; 
And  death  with  Him  shall  be 

A  victory ! 

0  Lord !  my  weakness  lies 
Before  Thine  eyes. 

Let  Thy  strong,  loving  arm 

Shield  me  from  harm  ! 
That  arm  my  strength  shall  be  ; 

Fight  Thou  for  me  ! 

1  am  but  helpless  dust ; 
Thy  might  I  trust! 

Triumph  and  rest  are  Thine  — 
O  make  them  mine  ! 

F.    UlLLEK. 


TUESDAY. 

THIS  did  not  once  so  trouble  me, 
That  better  I  could  not  love  Thee  ; 
But  now  I  feel  and  know 
That  only  when  we  love,  we  find 
How  far  our  hearts  remain  behind 
The  love  they  should  bestow. 

When  w^e  had  little  care  to  call 

On  Thee,  and  scarcely  prayed  at  all, 

We  seemed  enough  to  pray  : 
But  now  we  only  think  with  shame, 
How  seldom  to  Thy  glorious  Name 

Our  lips  their  offerings  pay. 

And  when  we  gave  yet  slighter  heed 
Unto  our  brother's  suffering  need. 

Our  hearts  reproached  us  then 
Not  half  so  much  as  now,  that  we 
With  such  a  careless  eye  can  see 

The  wants  and  woes  of  men. 


32 


DAILY  HYMNS. 


In  doing  is  this  knowledge  won, 
To  see  what  yet  remains  undone  ; 

With  this  our  pride  repress  — 
And  give  us  grace,  a  growing  store, 
That  day  by  day  we  may  do  more, 

And  may  esteem  it  less. 

R.  C.  Trench. 


WEDNESDAY, 

LORD,  't  is  a  weary  night  — 
I  long  for  life  and  light ! 
Dark  clouds  are  in  the  sky, 
The  winds  are  rising  high, 
And  o'er  my  troubled  soul 
Waves  of  temptation  roll. 

But  oh,  one  smile  of  Thine 
Like  thousand  suns  would  shine ! 
One  little  look  of  love 
My  wilful  heart  would  move  ; 
One  breath  to  flame  would  bring 
The  faith  so  languishing. 

Black  clouds  of  sin  confound, 
And  devils  gather  round, 
And  all  life's  weariness 
Weighs  down  with  sore  distress, 
And  the  bright  realms  of  day 
Seem  years  and  years  away. 

3 


84  DAILY  HYMNS. 

0  Lord,  Thy  strength  impart ! 
Give  me  a  better  heart,  — 
More  thankful  for  Thy  light, 
More  patient  through  the  night, 
More  apt  Thy  praise  to  sing, 
Less  weak  and  wavering. 

Lord,  I  am  nought  but  sin, 

Evil  without,  within. 

Oh  can  it  truly  be 

That  Thou  dost  care  for  me; 

That,  in  Thy  goodness  blest, 

1  on  Thy  heart  may  rest? 

If  but  that  rest  is  mine, 
If  Thou  wilt  call  me  Thine, 
Then  night  may  frown  above, 
I  will  but  see  Thy  love  ; 
Its  storms  may  thunder  near, 
Thy  voice  alone  I  '11  hear. 

Its  blasts  shall  seem  but  gales 
From  Heaven's  peaceful  vales ; 
Its  frost  shall  change  to  balm, 


WEDNESDA  Y.  .       35 

Its  fever  sink  to  calm. 
Lord,  from  Thy  loving  eyes 
My  sun  of  life  shall  rise  ! 

Forgive  this  faithless  mind, 
So  thankless  and  so  blind ! 
Thou  hast  not  left  my  side, 
Even  here  Thy  love  doth  guide ; 
And,  though  I  cannot  see, 
I  feel  Thy  grace  with  me. 


This  night  will  brighten  soon ; 
Life  has  its  cloudless  noon, 
Its  islands  of  repose 
From  weariness  and  woes,  — 
And  Thou  wilt  lead  me  there. 
In  sunshine  fresh  and  fair. 

Looking  back  on  the  way, 

My  grateful  heart  shall  say, 

Mercy  and  truth,  0  Lord, 

In  all  Thy  paths  accord! 

The  warmth  Thy  love  can  bring, 

Turns  "Winter  into  Spring. 


36  DAILY  HYMNS. 

Thus  even  in  my  prayer 
Faith  breathes  a  purer  air; 
The  song,  in  tears  begun, 
Now  into  smiles  hath  run. 
But  smiles  and  tears  both  say, 
Be  with  me,  Lord,  alway ! 

A.  G.  R. 


THURSDAY. 

MAKE  use  of  me,  my  God ! 
Let  me  not  be  forgot ; 
A  broken  vessel  cast  aside, 
One  whom  Thou  needest  not. 

I  am  Thy  creature,  Lord, 
And  made  by  hands  divine  ; 

And  I  am  part,  however  mean, 
Of  this  great  world  of  Thine. 

Thou  usest  all  Thy  works, 
The  weakest  things  that  be  ; 

Each  has  a  service  of  its  own, 
For  all  things  wait  on  Thee. 

Thou  usest  the  high  stars, 
The  tiny  drops  of  dew, 

The  giant  peak  and  little  hill ;  - 
My  God,  oh  use  me  too ! 


38  DAILY  HYMNS. 

Thou  usest  tree  and  flower, 
The  rivers  vast  and  small ; 

The  eagle  great,  the  little  bird 
That  sings  upon  the  wall. 

Thou  usest  the  wide  sea. 

The  little  hidden  lake; 
The  pine  upon  the  Alpine  clifF, 

The  lily  in  the  brake ; 

The  huge  rock  in  the  vale, 
The  sand-grain  by  the  sea  ; 

The  thunder  of  the  rolling  cloud. 
The  murmur  of  the  bee. 

All  things  do  serve  Thee  here, 
All  creatures,  great  and  small ; 

Make  use  of  me,  of  me,  my  God, 
The  meanest  of  them  all ! 

H.    BONAR. 


FRIDAY. 

rpHOU  deep  abyss  of  blessed  Love, 
-^    In  Jesus  Christ  to  us  unsealed! 
Fire  which  no  finite  heart  could  prove, 

Depths  to  no  human  thought  revealed; 
Thou  lovest  sinners  —  lovest  me. 
Thou  blessest  those  who  cursed  Thee. 
O  great,  O  kind,  O  lo\ing  One, 
What  worthless  creatures  shin'st  Thou  on ! 

Thou  King  of  Light!  our  deepest  longing 
Is  shallow  to  Thy  depths  of  grace ; 

Deep  are  the  woes  to  us  belonging, 
But  deeper  far  Thy  joy  to  bless. 

Teach  us  to  trust  the  Father's  love, 

Still  looking  to  the  Son  above. 

Blest  Spirit !  through  our  spirits  pour 

True  prayers  and  praises  evermore. 

ZlXZEXDOEF. 


SATUBDAY. 

OVER  the  waves  of  life's  troublesome  sea 
Jesus    still    walks    while  the   loud   billows 
roar ; 
And  to  the  haven  where  fain  it  would  be, 
Bringeth    Faith's    ship   from    the   far-distant 
shore. 
Night   cannot    hide    Him,   and   storms   cannot 

sever : 
Whom  the  Lord  loveth  He  loveth  forever. 

Hearts  that  are  weary,  and  eyes  that  are  dim, 
Look  unto  Christ  the  Consoler,  and  rest ! 

Tempest  and  cloud  turn  to  sunshine  with  Him  ; 
Grief  hath  its  gladness,  and  mourning  is 
blest. 

Cast  on  the  Lord  all  thy  burden  of  sorrow : 

Weeping  to-night  bringeth  joy  on  the  morrow. 


SATURDAY.  41 

Therefore  rejoice  when  the  wild  ocean  rolls! 
Life   knows  no  storm  "where   the   Lord  can- 
not save. 
Still  in  your  patience  possess  ye  your  souls ; 
God,  as  of  old,  is  in  whirlwind  and  wave. 
He  W'ho  \vith  Jesus  w^ould  triumph  in  gladness, 
First    must    have    wept   with    the    Saviour   in 
sadness. 

Soon  will  the  morning  rise  fadeless  and  fair ; 

Soon  wall  the  toils  of  the  voyagers  cease. 
Crystal  and  calm  is  the  sea  flowing  there, — 

All  of  life's  tumult  is  hushed  into  peace. 
Thither,  O  Lord !  guide  me  over  the  billow ; 
And  in  the  storm  let  Thy  breast  be  my  pillow ! 

Edelixg. 


THIRD  SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 

I  AM  in  danger,  — 
Be  Thou  my  defence ! 
Pain  and  temptation 

Banish  from  hence  ! 
Guard  and  protect  me, 

By  night  and  by  day  ; 
Guide  through  the  wilderness ! 
Light  on  my  way  ! 


I  am  in  danger : 

The  world,  with  its  cares, 
Digs  for  me  pitfalls. 

Sets  for  me  snares. 
Careless  my  footsteps. 

Ready  to  roam : 
How  shall  I  ever 

Come  safe  to  my  home? 


THIRD   SUNDAY  IN  LENT.  43 


I  am  in  danger,  — 


Afflictions  are  near ; 
Hope  droops  her  pinions, 

Faith  shrinks  to  fear. 
Shall  I  make  shipwreck 

Of  love  and  of  trust  ? 
Be  Thou  my  refuge ! 

I  am  but  dust. 

I  am  in  danger : 

Each  hour  as  it  flies 
Seeks  to  decoy  me 

Away  from  the  skies. 
Wave-beaten  sea-sand. 

Wind-smitten  reed,  — 
Such  is  my  weakness. 

Help  Thou  my  need. 

I  am  in  danger : 
Death's  dreary  vale 

Stretches  before  me, 
Shall  I  not  quail  ? 

Can  I  encounter 

The  gloom  of  its  night  ? 


44  .  DAILY  HYMNS. 

Star  of  the  wanderer, 
Be  Thou  my  light! 

I  am  in  danger,  — 

Yet  says  Thy  voice, 
"  Doubt  not,  and  tremble  not ; 

Trust  and  rejoice." 
Then,  kind  and  mighty  One ! 

Then  shall  I  be 
Never  in  danger,  — 

Ever  with  Thee  ! 


MONDAY, 

JESUS  !  the  very  thought  is  sweet ! 
In  that  dear  name  all  heart-joys  meet; 
But  oh !  than  honey  sweeter  far 
The  glimpses  of  His  presence  are. 

No  word  is  sung  more  sweet  than  this  ; 
No  sound  is  heard  more  full  of  bliss ; 
No  thought  brings  sweeter  comfort  nigh 
Than  Jesus,  Son  of  God  most  high. 

Jesus,  the  hope  of  souls  forlorn, 
How  good  to  them  for  sin  that  mourn ! 
To  them  that  seek  Thee,  oh  how  kind ! 
But  what  art  Thou  to  them  that  find ! 

No  tongue  of  mortal  can  express, 
No  pen  can  write  the  blessedness, 
He  only  who  hath  proved  it  knows 
What  bliss  from  love  of  Jesus  flows. 


46  DAILY  HYMNS. 

O  Jesus !  King  of  wondrous  might ! 
O  victor,  glorious  from  the  fight ! 
Sweetness  that  cannot  be  expressed, 
And  altogether  loveliest ! 

Abide  with  us,  O  Lord,  to-day, 
Fulfil  us  with  Thy  grace  we  pray  ; 
And  with  Thine  own  true  sweetness  feed 
Our  souls,  from  sin  and  darkness  freed. 

St.  Bernard. 


TUESDAY. 

I  THANK  Thee  for  the  loneliness 
That  brings  me  near  to  Thee ;  — 
Thanks  that  no  other  heart  can  bless, 

No  other  eye  can  see! 
I  never  knew  the  depth,  the  height, 

Of  heavenly  love  before : 
O  Lord !  Thy  presence  gilds  my  night, 
It  brightens  more  and  more. 

What  matter,  in  that  lucid  gleam, 

If  stars  grow  bright  or  pale  ? 
Shall  we  of  lesser  glories  dream 

Who  look  within  the  veil? 
Why  count  the  little  earthly  loss. 

When  gifts  from  Heaven  flow  down  ? 
Lord,  Thou  for  me  hast  set  the  Cross 

With  jewels  of  the  Crown. 

A.  G.  R. 


WEDNESDA  Y. 

AET  thou  weary  ?  art  thou  languid  ? 
Art  thou  sore  distrest? 
"  Come  to  Me,"  saith  One,  ''  and  coming 
Be  at  rest." 

Hath  He  marks  to  lead  me  to  Him, 

If  He  be  my  guide  ? 
"  In  His  hands  and  feet  are  wound-prints, 
And  His  side." 

Is  there  diadem,  as  monarch. 

That  His  brow  adorns  ? 
*'  Yes,  a  crown  in  very  surety,  — 
But  of  Thorns  !  " 

If  I  find  Him,  if  I  follow. 

What  His  guerdon  here? 
"  Many  a  sorrow,  many  a  labor, 
Many  a  tear." 


WEDNESDA  Y.  49 

If  I  Still  hold  closely  to  Him, 

What  hath  He  at  last? 
"  Sorrow  vanquished,  labor  ended, 

Jordan  past." 

If  I  ask  Him  to  receive  me, 

Will  He  say  me  nay  ? 
"Not  till  earth  and  not  till  heaven 

Pass  away." 

Finding,  following,  keeping,  struggling, 

Is  He  sure  to  bless  ? 
"Angels,  martyrs,  prophets,  virgins, 

Answer  Yes !  " 

St.  Stephen  the  Sabite. 


THURSDAY. 

FROM  Thee,  O  Lord,  I  take  my  lot! 
Sunshine  or  shade,  it  matters  not: 
For  Thou  canst  make  earth's  shadows  shine 
With  radiance  lovely  and  divine. 

0  doubting  heart !  be  strong  and  brave ! 
Hath  not  the  Saviour  power  to  save  ? 
His  is  no  empty,  mocking  name  ; 
When  did  He  put  thy  trust  to  shame  ? 

Oh,  many  a  night  upon  my  way 
Thy  starlight  shone  as  bright  as  day. 

1  wept  for  threatening  clouds  of  woes  — 
Lo !  while  I  wept  the  morning  rose. 

Often  I  saw  no  help,  no  hope; 
Unarmed  with  furious  foes  to  cope. 
Then  unto  Thee  I  raised  my  cry, — 
"  Save,  or  I  perish  ! "    Thou  wert  nigh. 


THURSDA  Y.  51 

I  saw  Thy  fiery  chariots  stand; 

I  saw  the  hosts  at  Thy  right  hand.  — 

Angels  and  ministers  of  grace, 

To  aid  the  soiils  that  seek  Thy  face. 

Yes,  Lord !  Thine  hour  comes  always  sure : 
Though  weeping  may  a  night  endure, 
Joy  stealeth  down,  through  paths  forlorn, 
And  draws  the  curtains  of  the  dawn. 

"  Faithful  and  true  "  Thy  heavenly  name ; 
Thine  earthly  child  repeats  the  same, — 
Faithful  and  true,  in  smiles  or  tears. 
Thy  ways  to  me  through  life's  long  years. 

There  came  no  storm  without  its  calm, — 
No  grief  without  its  healing  balm  : 
All  shadows  were  by  sunshine  cast ; 
They  fled,  but  sunshine  yet  doth  last. 

Therefore  I  always  will  rejoice, 
By  day  or  night,  to  hear  Thy  voice, — 
"  O  doubting  heart !  why  troubled  be  ? 
I  am  the  Lord ;  believe  on  Me  ! " 

Lavateb. 


FRIDAY. 

I  HAVE  had  my  happy  days, 
Followed  life  through  pleasant  ways, 
Joys  unnumbered  bloomed  in  all : 
Now  with  patient  faith  I  go 
Through  the  desert  walks  of  woe  — 
In  each  life  some  tears  nmst  fall ! 

Lord,  my  sin  is  in  Thy  sight, 

And  Thy  strokes  are  far  more  light 

Than  the  load  of  guilt  I  bear : 
Then  shall  T,  a  sinner,  shrink 
Sorrow's  bitter  cup  to  drink  ? 

Heaven  mixes  sweetness  there. 

Unto  Thee  I  give  my  heart ; 
Life  and  love  may  all  depart: 

Lord,  I  love  Thee  more  than  life ! 


FRIDAY.  53 

Earthly  refuge  turns  to  dust; 
Thou  my  Refuge  art,  my  Trust: 
I  shall  conquer  in  the  strife! 

Death  may  come,  but  death  shall  be 
Messenger  of  life  to  me  : 

Can  I  grieve  to  see  him  near  ? 
In  the  dark  and  shadowy  vale 
Thou,  my  Saviour,  wilt  not  fail  — 

And  with  Thee  I  feel  no  fear. 

I  will  take,  in  patient  faith, 
Sorrow,  darkness,  pain,  and  death, 

Looking  only  unto  Thee : 
Lord,  I  yield  me  to  Thy  will ! 
Be  it  blessing,  be  it  ill, 

All  shall  work  for  good  to  me. 

Gellert. 


SATURDAY. 

TIME  flows  on  with  me 
To  Eternity! 
Morning  fades  to  evening  light; 
Weeks  roll  quickly  out  of  sight : 
Happy  he  whose  day 
Stainless  steals  away ! 

Shifting  hopes  and  fears 
Mark  the  changeful  years. 
Where  are  now  the  hours  gay, 
Where  the  griefs  of  yesterday  ? 
Smiles  and  tears  are  one, 
When  the  night  is  done. 

Though  the  world  may  seem 

Shadowy  as  a  dream. 
Yet  Thy  promise,  Lord,  is  sure; 
And  Thy  truth  shall  still  endure. 

Stars  may  pale  and  fall  — 

Heaven  still  beams  o'er  all! 


SATURDAY.       .  55 

While  to  Thee  I  cling, 

Time  can  only  bring 
Light  and  joy  and  sunshine's  gleam, 
Heaven's  truth  in  earthly  dream: 

Even  tears  shall  be 

Rainbow  drops  to  me. 

Happy,  happy  lot ! 

Thou  who  changest  not 
Rulest  all  my  changeful  days, — 
And  thus  ever  to  Thy  praise. 

Time  flows  on  with  me 

To  Eternity! 

Karl  Garve. 


FOURTH  SUNDAY   IN  LENT. 

T  ORD  of  mercy  unci  of  might ! 
^-^  Of  mankind  the  life  and  light! 
Maker,  teacher  infinite  ! 
Jesus,  hear  and  save ! 

Who,  when  Sin's  tremendous  doom 
Gave  creation  to  the  tomb, 
Did  not  scorn  the  Virgin's  womb,  - 
Jesus,  hear  and  save ! 

Mighty  monarch,  Saviour  mild, 
Humbled  to  a  little  child. 
Captive,  beaten,  bound,  reviled,  — 
Jesus,  hear  and  save  ! 

Throned  above  celestial  things. 
Borne  aloft  on  angels'  wings. 
Lord  of  lords  and  King  of  kings ! 
Jesus,  hear  and  save ! 


FOURTH  SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 


57 


Who  shall  yet  return  from  high, 
Robed  in  light  and  majesty, 
Hear  us !  help  us  when  we  cry ! 
Jesus,  hear  and  save ! 

Bishop  Hebee. 


MONDAY. 

STILL  waters,  pastures  green, 
Such,  Lord,  these  years  have  been. 
Such  flowers  have  bloomed  for  me, 
Such  fountains  flowed  from  Thee, 
That  even  life's  desert  ways 
Shall  echo  to  Thy  praise. 

Still  Memory's  loveliest  light 
Linorers  around  the  nio^ht 
When  first  beneath  Thy  cross 
I  felt  the  world  but  dross, 
And  gained  the  Pearl  of  Price 
In  my  poor  sacrifice. 

0  Holy  One  !  I  came 

To  Thee  in  sin  and  shame : 

1  found  the  welcome  free. 
The  ring,  the  feast  for  me  ; 
The  robe  of  righteousness, — 
All  that  my  soul  could  bless ! 


MoyoA  Y.  59 

Freely  Thy  love  bestowed : 

I  reap  not  what  I  sowed. 

No  !  were  Thy  heart  like  mine, 

The  floods  of  wrath  divine 

Had  poured,  in  vengeance  dread, 

Over  my  guilty  head. 

But  mercy,  love,  and  grace 
Opened  me  their  embrace. 
The  wanderer  found  a  fold; 
The  needy,  wealth  untold ; 
The  sinner  sank  to  rest 
Upon  a  Saviour's  breast. 

0  Lord,  what  words  can  tell 
That  bliss  unspeakable  ! 
What  song  by  angels  sung, 
What  seraph's  burning  tongue. 
Could  utter  half  the  praise 
My  soul  to  Thee  should  raise. 

Low  at  Thy  cross  I  fall ; 
Thou  hast  my  life,  my  all. 

1  breathe  no  other  prayer. 


60  DAILY  HYMNS. 

I  have  no  other  care, 
But  to  abide  in  Thee, 
And  Thy  salvation  see. 

Lead  me  as  Thou  hast  led ; 
Feed  with  the  living  Bread! 
Let  Sorrow  do  its  worst, 
I  hunger  not,  nor  thirst. 
For  'neath  the  desert  skies 
The  heavenly  manna  lies. 

Still  waters,  pastures  green, 
Everywhere  calm,  serene  ; 
Wild  wastes  and  dreary  sands 
Turned  into  pleasant  lands : 
Such  are  Thy  paths  of  peace ; 
Such,  until  life  shall  cease. 

Therefore  I  follow  on  — 
The  night  is  almost  gone. 
Death's  river  flows  afar, 
Lit  by  the  Morning  Star. 
Oh  let  its  billows  be 
Still  waters  unto  me  ! 


TUESDA  Y. 

I  COME  to  Thee  once  more,  my  God ! 
No  longer  will  I  roam  ; 
For  I  have  sought  the  wide  world  through, 
And. never  found  a  home. 

Though  bright  and  many  are  the  spots 

Where  I  have  built  a  nest, 
Yet  in  the  brightest  still  I  pined 

For  more  abiding  rest. 

Riches  could  bring  me  joy  and  power, 

And  they  were  fair  to  see  ; 
Yet  gold  was  but  a  sorry  god 

To  serve  instead  of  Thee. 

Then  honor  and  the  world's  good  word 

Appeared  a  nobler  faith  ; 
Yet  could  I  rest  on  bliss  that  hung 

And  trembled  on  a  breath  ? 


J  DAILY  HYMNS. 

The  pleasure  of  the  passing  hour 

My  spirit  next  could  wile  ; 
But  soon,  full  soon,  my  heart  fell  sick 

Of  pleasure's  weary  smile. 

More  selfish  grown,  I  worshipped  health, 
The  flush  of  manhood's  power ; 

But  then  it  came  and  went  so  quick, 
It  was  but  for  an  hour. 

And  thus  a  not  unkindly  world 

Hath  done  its  best  for  me  ; 
Yet  I  have  found,  O  God !  no  rest, 

No  harbor  short  of  Thee. 

For  Thou  hast  made  this  wondrous  soul 

All  for  Thyself  alone : 
Ah,  send  Thy  sweet,  transforming  grace 

To  make  it  more  Thine  own. 

F.  W.  Faber. 


WEDNESDA  Y. 

\  ROUND  and  within   us  the  night-shadows 

-^      close  — 

Oh  where,  save  in  Thee,  can  our  spirits  re- 
pose ? 

Thy  light  through  the  darkness  our  beacon 
shall  be  — 

Thou  Rest  of  the  Weary !  we  come  unto  Thee ! 

Life's  burdens   are   heavy,  they  weigh   on   our 

breast ; 
But    Thou,    the    Consoler,    hast    promised   us 

rest. 
The  sadder  our  hearts  are  the  kinder  Thou  'It 

be  — 
Dear  Rest  of  the  Weary !  we  come  unto  Thee. 

What  billows   shall  fright  us   if  Thou  art  but 

near? 
With  Thee  what  protection  !  without  Thee  what 

fear ! 


64  DAILY  HYMNS. 

O  Hope  of  the  Sinner !   shine,  beckon  to  me ! 
For,  Rest  of  the  Weary !  we  come  unto  Thee. 

So  frail,  so  uncertain  our  joy  and  our  woe, 
What    day    shall    bring    either   we   never   can 

know  : 
Thou  only  our  Refuge  unchanging  canst  be ; 
O  Rest  of  the  Weary  !   we  come   unto  Thee. 

Our    sunshine    hath   shadows ;    smiles   tremble 

to  tears  ; 
Dark    days    will    steal    into    the    brightest   of 

years. 
Too  restless  our  joys  are  ;  too  ready  to  flee : 
Thou  Rest  of  the  Weary !  we  come  unto  Thee 

Dear  Star  of  our  morning,  and  Moon   of  our 

night ! 
Our    darkness   before    Thee    soon    dawns   into 

light. 
How  calm   must  life's   current  flow  on   to  the 

sea. 
When,    Rest    of  the   Weary!    we    come    unto 

Thee. 


WEDNESDAY.  65 

Each    day,    every    hour,    Thy    children    would 

come ; 
Each  day,  every  hour,  speeds  nearer  our  Home. 
How    fast    earth's   fair    hopes   to    forgetfulness 

flee! 
But,  Rest  of  the  Weary !  we  come  unto  Thee. 

When   o'er   life's  wild    ocean    the    last    sunset 

glows, 
And  tired  hearts  yearn  for  a  dreamless  repose, 
Then,  over  the  waves  of  Eternity's  sea, 
O  Rest  of  the  Weary !  we  come  unto  Thee. 

A.  G.  R. 
5 


THURSDAY. 

OGOD !  my  sins  are  manifold ;  against  my 
life  they  cry, 
And  all  my  guilty  deeds  foregone   up  to   Thy 

temple  fly  : 
Wilt  Thou  release  my  trembling  soul,  that  to 

despair  is  driven? 
"  Forgive  !  "  a  blessed  voice  replied,  "  and  thou 
shalt  be  forgiven." 

My  foemen,  Lord,  are  fierce  and  fell  —  they 
spurn  me  in  their  pride, 

They  render  evil  for  my  good,  my  patience 
they  deride : 

Arise,  0  King !  and  be  the  proud  to  right- 
eous ruin  driven, — 

"  Forgive  !  "  an  awful  answer  came,  "  as  thou 
wouldst  be  forgiven." 


THURSDA Y 


67 


Seven    times,    O    Lord  I     I    pardoned    them ; 
seven  times  they  sinned  again  ; 

They  practise  still   to  work   me  woe,  they  tri- 
umph in  my  pain  : 

But    let    them    dread    my    vengeance    now,  to 
just  resentment  driven, — 

"  Forgive  ! "   the  voice   of  thunder  spake,   "  or 
never  be  forgiven  !  " 

Bishop  Heber. 


FRIDAY. 

MY  God,  I  love  Thee!  not  because 
I  hope  for  Heaven  thereby; 
Nor  because  they  who  love  Thee  not 
Must  burn  eternally. 

But  O  my  Jesus !  Thou  didst  me 
Upon  the  cross  embrace ;  — 

For  me  didst  bear  the  nail  and  spear, 
And  manifold  disgrace  ; 

And  griefs  and  torments  numberless, 

And  sweat  of  agony,  — 
E'en  death  itself,  —  and  all  for  one 

Who  was  Thine  enemy ! 

Then  why,  O  blessed  Jesus  Christ ! 

Shall  I  not  love  Thee  well  ? 
Not  for  the  sake  of  winning  heaven, 

Nor  of  escaping  hell, — 


FRIDAY.  69 

Not  with  the  hope  of  gaining  aught, 

Not  seeking  a  reward, 
But  as  Thyself  hast  loved  me, 

O  ever- loving  Lord  ! 

Even  so  I  love  Thee,  and  ^vill  love, 
And  to  Thy  praise  will  sing, 

Solely  because  Thou  art  my  God, 
And  my  eternal  King. 

Xavieb. 


SATURDAY, 

OLORD !  I  grasp  Thy  hand, 
As  onward  throuoh  the  night 
I  journey  to  the  land 
Of  everlasting  liorht. 
How  safe  that  hand  has  led 

Through  years  of  mortal  ill ! 

Sorrow  and  joy  alike  have  fled ; 

But  Thou  art  with  me  still. 

Oh  wondrous,  wondrous  were 

The  paths  where  Thou  didst  guide ! 
Rainbows  and  storms  commingled  there, 

But  Thou  wert  by  my  side. 
It  was  the  Lord's  highway, 

The  way  of  holiness ; 
And  whether  bright  or  dark  the  day, 

It  only  rose  to  bless. 

Now  that  the  midnight's  gloom 
Stealthily  creepeth  near; 


SATURDAY.  71 

Sepulchral  shadows  from  the  tomb 

With  all  their  solemn  fear, — 
O  Lord,  my  helper  be, 

Though  hidden  from  my  sight ! 
Thy  hand  upholds  as  steadfastly 

In  darkness  as  in  light. 

Then  nerve  my  sinking  faith  : 

O  take  my  hand  in  Thine  ! 
Thy  love  is  stronger  far  than  death  ; 

And,  Lord,  that  love  is  mine. 
It  is  but  one  black  wave, 

And  then  a  crystal  sea ; 
One  dream  of  darkness  in  the  grave, 

The  morn,  —  Eternity  ! 

Yes,  though  Love  weep  its  tears, 

And  Hope  may  scarce  endure, 
Steadily  onward  move  the  years,  — 

Our  endless  home  is  sure. 
A  home,  O  Lord,  with  Thee  ! 

A  home  in  Thy  embrace  — 
Where  Faith  that  followed  trustingly 

Shall  see  Thee,  face  to  face. 

LlEBICH. 


FIFTH  SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 

I    BORE    with    thee    long    weary   days    and 
nights, 
Through  many  pangs  of  heart,  through  many 
tears  ; 
I  bore  with  thee,  thy  hardness,  coldness,  slights, 
For  three  and  thirty  years. 

Who    else    had    dared   for  thee    what   I   have 
dared  ? 
I  plunged  the   depth  most  deep  from   bliss 
above ; 
I  not  My  flesh,  I  not  My  spirit  spared : 
Give  thou  Me  love  for  love. 


For  thee  I  thirsted  in  the  daily  drought, 
For  thee  I  trembled  in  the  nightly  frost: 

Much  sweeter  thou  than  honey  to  My  mouth, 
Why  wilt  thou  still  be  lost  ? 


FIFTH  SUNDAY  IN  LENT.  73 

I  bore  thee  on  My  shoulders  and  rejoiced ; 

Men  only  marked  upon  My  shoulders  borne 
The  branding  cross  ;  and  shouted  hungry 
voiced, 

Or  wai^^ojed  their  heads  in  scorn. 

Thee  did   nails   grave    upon    My    hands ;    thy 
name 
Did  thorns  for  frontlets  stamp  between  Mine 
eyes: 
I,  Holy  One,  put  on  thy  guilt  and  shame,  — 
I,  God,  Priest,  Sacrifice. 

A  thief  upon  My  right  hand  and  My  left ; 

Six  hours  alone,  athirst,  in  misery: 
At  length  in    death  one  smote  My  heart,  and 
cleft 

A  hiding-place  for  thee. 

Nailed  to  the  racking  cross,  than  bed  of  down 
More  dear,  whereon  to  stretch  Myself  and 
sleep : 

So  did  I  win  a  kingdom,  —  share  My  crown ; 
A  harvest,  —  come  and  reap. 

C.    G-    ROSSETTI. 


MONDA  Y. 

I  WILL  love  Thee,  O  my  Strength! 
Thou  my  only  true  Delight ! 
Till  life's  little  day  at  length 

Shall  be  lost  in  Death's  dark  night. 
Then  my  breaking  heart  shall  be 
Stayed  for  evermore  on  Thee. 

I  will  love  Thee,  O  my  Life  ! 

Friend  above  all  others  dear! 
For  in  sunshine  or  in  strife 

Thou  art  ever,  ever  near. 
And  Thou,  Lamb  of  God !  Thy  love 
On  the  bitter  cross  didst  prove. 

Ah,  that  I  so  late  have  known 
All  the  blessedness  in  Thee  ! 

How  much  peace  and  joy  had  flown 
Through  these  long  years  down  to  me  ! 

Lord,  I  mourn  my  sinful  fate, 

That  I  love,  alas !  so  late. 


MONDA  Y.  75 

Yet  I  thank  Thee,  Heavenly  Sun ! 

That  Thy  life-restoring  beams 
Upon  me  have  shone,  and  won 

My  sad  heart  from  troubled  dreams. 
In  the  darkness  of  my  night 
Thou  hast  said,  "Let  there  be  light!" 

Give  my  eyes  soft,  cooling  tears ; 

Fill  my  soul  with  heavenly  fire  ; 
Let  me  love  Thee,  endless  years, 

"With  an  ever  fresh  desire  ; 
May  my  soul  and  mind  and  heart 
Never  from  Thy  love  depart. 

I  will  love  Thee,  O  my  Crown ! 

Though  I  bend  beneath  Thy  rod : 
Thou  wilt  smile  though  life  may  frown, 

Thou  my  changeless  Lord  and  God. 
And  my  grateful  heart  shall  be 
Thine  to  all  eternity. 

Angelus  Silesius. 


TUESDAY. 

WAIT  till  the  morning  comes, 
Wait  till  the  heavenly  Homes 
Open  at  His  command 
Who  guides  thee  by  the  hand. 
There,  at  the  golden  gates. 
His  crown,  His  welcome  waits. 

Thy  cross,  for  His  dear  sake, 

A  little  longer  take. 

For  many  weary  years 

He  bore  earth's  toil  and  tears ; 

But  oh  how  tenderly 

Through  life  He  leadeth  thee ! 

His  arm  to  lean  upon, 
His  rest  when  work  is  done. 
His  smile  to  light  thy  way, 
His  blessing  for  thy  stay, — 


TUESDAY,  77 

With  these  canst  thou  not  bear 
Thy  little  load  of  care? 

What  though  some  flowers  fade, 
What  though  some  heavy  shade 
Makes  all  the  future  dim  : 
Lift  up  thine  eyes  to  Him  ! 
Shadows  and  earthly  night 
Vanish  before  His  light. 

When  human  hopes  depart, 
Draw  closer  to  His  heart. 
His  voice  bids  sorrow  fly, 
His  love  can  satisfy; 
His  streams  in  deserts  flow, 
'Mid  thorns  His  roses  blow. 

Then  live,  and  do  His  work ! 
Let  no  repinings  lurk 
Within  that  heart  which  He 
Loveth  so  faithfully. 
Render  Him  love  for  love, 
Like  angel  souls  above. 


78 


DAILY  HYMNS. 


Then,  when  the  work  is  done, 
The  crown,  the  rest  all  won, 
Not  crown  nor  rest  shall  be 
What  most  delighteth  thee  ; 
But  gladness  more  divine,  — 
Thy  Saviour,  ever  thine  ! 

A.  G.  R. 


WEDNESDAY. 

TO  Heaven  I  lift  mine  eye, 
To  Heaven,  Jehovah's  throne, 
For  there  my  Saviour  sits  on  high, 
And  thence  shall  strength  and  aid  supply 
To  all  He  calls  His  own. 

He  will  not  faint  nor  fail. 
Nor  cause  thy  feet  to  stray  ; 
For  Him  no  weary  hours  assail. 
Nor  evening  darkness  spreads  her  veil 
O'er  His  eternal  day. 

Beneath  that  light  divine 

Securely  shalt  thou  move  ; 
The  sun  with  milder  beams  shall  shine, 
And  eve's  still  queen  her  lamp  incline 

Benignant  from  above. 


80 


BAIL  Y  HYMNS. 


For  He,  thy  God  and  Friend, 
Shall  keep  thy  soul  from  harm, 
In  each  sad  scene  of  doubt  attend, 
And  guide  thy  life,  and  bless  thine  end, 
With  His  almighty  arm. 

John  Bowdler. 


THURSDAY. 

EVEN  to  the  end  endure ! 
In  darkness  as  in  light. 
Clouds  cannot  make  the  stars  less  sure  ; 

They  only  dim  our  sight. 
Though  sorrow  reigns  to-day, 
Joy  in  the  morning  waits  ; 
Fear  not  to  tread  the  shadowed  way 
To  Heaven's  golden  gates. 

Endure  but  to  the  end, 

Though  doubts  should  fiercely  rise! 
The  Lord  shall  from  thy  foes  defend, 

And  faith  shall  win  the  prize. 
Thou  hast  a  golden  shield, 

And  robes  of  spotless  white  — 
Victory  crowns  thy  battle-field  ; 

Faith  merges  into  sight ! 


82  DAILY  HYMNS. 

Endure !  the  end  will  come ; 

Endure  I  though  fear  would  shake 
The  heart  that  yearns  for  rest  and  home 

As  if  that  heart  would  break. 
Danger  and  death  may  dare 

The  soul  that  Heaven  would  win  ; 
But  oh,  what  glory  waiteth  there 

The  vanquisher  of  sin. 

Then  to  the  end  endure  ! 

Through  darkness,  doubt,  and  fear. 
The  fadeless  morning  standeth  sure ; 

Its  roseate  dawn  is  near. 
Above  the  Cross  I  see 

The  Crown's  resplendent  gleam; 
Soon  shall  the  bright  Reality 

Eclipse  earth's  loveliest  dream ! 

Theodor  Crucius. 


FPdDA  Y. 

JESUS,  help  conquer! 
My  spirit  is  sinking, 
Deep  waters  of  sorrow  go  over  my  head. 
Weeping  and  trembling, 
And  fearing  and  shrinking, 
I  watch  for  the  day,  and  night  cometh  instead. 
Bitter  the  cup 
T  am  hourly  drinking  — 
How  thorny  the  path  that  I  hourly  tread  ! 

Jesus,  help  conquer  ! 

For,  fainting  and  weary, 
Scarcely  my  hands  can  their  weapons  sustain. 

The  way  seems  so  desolate, 

Painful  and  dreary. 
How  shall  I  ever  to  Heaven  attain  ? 

Jesus,  Great  Captain  ! 

If  Thou  be  not  near  me, 
How  shall  T  ever  the  victory  gain  ? 


84  DAILY  HYMNS. 

Jesus,  help  conquer  ! 

Earth  holds  out  her  lure, 
And  mortal   affections  yearn  after  the  prize 

Scarcely  my  heart 

Can  the  struggle  endure  ; 
Scarce  can  I  lift  up  my  tear-blinded  eyes. 

Jesus,  Redeemer  ! 

Thy  promise  is  sure  — 
Speak  to  my  spirit,  and  bid  me  arise. 

Jesus,  help  conquer ! 

There  is  not  an  hour 
Of  sorrow  or  joy  but  is  ordered  by  Thee : 

Thou  dost  cut  down 

Who  hast  planted  the  flower  — 
Tempest  or  calm  at  Thy  bidding  shall  be. 

Look  on  my  sorrow, 

And  give  me  the  power 
Humbly  to  wait  till  Thou  comfortest  me. 

Jesus,  help  conquer ! 
I  cry  unto  Thee  ! 
Scarcely  my  heart  its  petitions  can  frame. 
All  is  so  dark 


FRIDA  V. 


85 


And  so  painful  to  me, 
All  I  can  utter  sometimes  is  Thy  name. 

Jesus,  help  conquer  ! 

My  portion  now  be  : 
Though  all  else  should  change,  be  Thou  ever 


the  same. 


SOHKODEK. 


I 


SA  rURDA  Y. 

N  heavenly  love  abiding, 

No  change  my  heart  shall  fear, 


And  safe  is  such  confiding, 
For  nothing  changes  here. 

The  storm  may  roar  without  me. 
My  heart  may  low  be  laid, 

But  God  is  round  about  me, 
And  can  1  be  dismayed  ? 

Wherever  He  may  guide  me, 

No  want  shall  turn  me  back  ; 
My  Shepherd  is  beside  me, 

And  nothing  can  I  lack. 
His  wisdom  ever  waketh, 

His  sight  is  never  dim  ; 
He  knows  the  way  He  taketh, 

And  I  will  walk  with  Him. 


SATURDAY. 


87 


Green  pastures  are  before  me, 

Which  yet  I  have  not  seen  ; 
Bright  skies  will  soon  be  o'er  me 

Where  the  dark  clouds  have  been. 
My  hope  I  cannot  measure, 

My  path  to  life  is  free, 
My  Saviour  has  my  treasure, 

And  He  will  walk  with  me. 

A.  L.  Warixg. 


PALM  SUNDAY. 

TIIOU  art  worthy,  Lord  most  holy  ! 
Endless  praises  to  receive. 
To  our  sin,  our  shame,  and  folly, 

Thou  hast  stooped,  and  bid  us  live. 
Thou  hast  given  us  songs  for  sadness, 

Hajipy  hearts  for  heaviness  ; 
All  Thy  gifts  to  us  are  gladness, 
All  Thy  words  breathe  but  to  bless. 

Lord  of  glory  !  all  Thy  splendor 

Hosts  of  Heaven  but  feebly  sing ! 
But  a  song  of  thanks  more  tender, 

Lowlier,  deeper,  would  we  bring. 
Seraphim  must  veil  their  faces : 

How  could  we  Thy  light  endure, 
If  the  love  that  thus  abases 

Did  not  make  the  sinful  pure? 


PALM  SUNDAY.  89 

Angels  have  their  harps  of  glory, 

Innocent  and  joyful  praise  ; 
We  have  but  that  one  sweet  story, 

Old  as  Calvary,  to  upraise. 
"We  were  lost,  and  Thou  hast  found  us; 

Thankless,  yet  Thy  love  was  free ; 
Wretched,  till  Thy  pity  crowned  us  ; 

Poor,  but  oh,  how  rich  in  Thee  ! 

Oh  how  heartfelt,  yet  how  lowly, 

Are  the  praises  we  should  bring  I 
Lord  most  merciful,  most  holy  ! 

Thou  art  Heaven's  majestic  King. 
Saints  in  ecstasy  adore  Thee, 

Thou  of  ecstasy  the  Source ! 
Sinners  can  but  bov/  before  Thee, 

Looking  upward  to  Thy  Cross. 

A.  G.  R. 


MONDAY  BEFORE   EASTER. 

OVER    against  the    city  gates,  in    the    flush 
of  the  eastern  skies. 
The  Lord,  the  King,  looked  down  and  wept 
for  the  day  of  mercy  fled. 
He    saw  the    Temple's    glittering  front   in    the 
morning  sunshine  rise, 
?Ie    saw  the  shadows  of  doom    loom  up   in 
the  evening's  lurid   red. 

O    golden    city    of    grace    and    peace,    where 
shone  God's  altar-fires  I 
Never   shall  prophet   or  priest  sing  out  thy 
jubilee  again. 
Thy  glory    is    dim,  thy   light    is    quenched    in 
the  passion  of  base  desires ; 
Thy  King    despised,   rejected    of    men ;    thy 
Saviour  smitten  and  slain. 

Therefore    that  wailing  voice    rang  out  on  the 
hushed,  expectant  air, 


MONDAY  BEFORE  EASTER.  91 

Therefore    that    vision    of    doom    swept   by 
when  the  hearts  of  the  people  slept ; 
Therefore,  with  bitter  travail  of  soul,  and  the 
knell  of  a  broken  prayer, 

The  Lord  looked  over  Jerusalem,  and  while 
He  looked  He  wept. 

My  soul  I    has   He   never  wept   for   thee  ?   has 
His  voice  been  never  heard. 
Pleading  the  things  of  eternal  peace  at  thy 
heart's  closed,  frownino-  ofate? 
How  often  would  He  liave  gathered  thee,  hadst 
thou  but  by  His  love  been  stirred : 
Oh,    hear    the  call    that    is    lingering    yet ; 
come  fortli  ere  it  be  too  late  I 

Come    forth,  ere   He  leave    thee,  to    meet   thy 
King  I  not  with  the  waving  palm. 
Not  with    the  song    of  hosanna  shouts    that 
up  through  the  sunshine  rise  ; 
But  with  the  tears  of  a  sorrowing  heart,  and 
a  penitential  psalm. 
And  eyes  that  are  fixed  on  the  lifted  Cross 
where  is  slain  thv  Sacrifice. 


92 


DAILY  HYMNS. 


Weep  for  the  sins  lliat  have  nailed  Him  there ; 
for  the  record  of  long-past  years, 
For  the  fo]]}^  and  guilt  of  a  thankless  heart, 
for  o^race  that  was  oiven  in  vain. 
So  shalt  thou  see  like  a  rainbow  rise,  through 
the  flood  of  those  blinding  tears, 
The  light  of  the  love  that  illumes  the  world, 
and  the  pardon  that  heals  thy  pain. 


Cling    no    more    to  thy  pomp    and  pride ;    let 
thy  heart's  wild  tumult  cease  ; 
Pray  that    thy  soul    may  be    pure  from    sin, 
and  its  old  life  fade  away  ; 
So  shall    He    fold  thee  within    His    arms,  and 
quiet  thee  into  peace,  — 
So  shall  thy  Passion  with  His  o'erpass,  and 
rise  thine  P2aster-Day  ! 

A.  G.  R. 


TUESDAY  BEFORE   EASTER. 

DEAR  Lord  I  remember  in  that  day 
Who  was  the  cause  Thou  cam'st  this  way. 
Thy  sheep  was  strayed,  and  Thou  wouldst  be 
Even  lost  Thyself  in  seeking  me  I 

Shall  all  that  labor,  all  that  cost 
Of  love,  and  even  that  loss  be  lost  ? 
And  this  loved  soul  judged  worth  no  less 
Than  all  that  way  and  weariness  ? 

Just  mercy,  then.  Thy  reckoning  be 
Made  with  my  price,  and  not  with  me. 
'T  was  paid  at  first  with  too  much  pain 
To  be  paid  twice,  or  once  in  vain. 

Mercy,  my  Judge,  mercy  I  cry, 
With  blushing  cheek  and  bleeding  eye. 
The  conscious  colors  of  my  sin 
Are  red  without,  and  pale  within. 


94  DAILY  fir.UNS. 

0  let  Thine  own  compassion  pay 
Thyself,  and  so  discharge  that  day! 
If  Sin  can  sigh,  Love  can  forgive  : 
O  say  the  word,  my  soul  shall  live ! 

Though  both  my  prayers  and  tears  combine, 
Both  worthless  are,  for  they  are  mine  : 
But  Thou  Thy  bounteous  self  still  be, 
And  show  Thou  art  by  saving  me. 

R.  Crashaw. 


WEDNESDAY  BEFORE  EASTER. 

OH    ye  who   passe   Me  by,  whose    eyes  and 
minde 
To  worldly  things  are  sharp,  but  to  Me  blinde ; 
To  Me  who  took  eyes  that  I  might  you  finde  : 
Was  ever  grief  like  Mine  ? 


Judas,  dost  thou  betray  Me  with  a  kisse  ? 
Canst    thou    finde    hell    about   My    lips  ?    and 

misse 
Of  life,  just  at  the  gates  of  life  and  blisse  ? 
Was  ever  grief  like  Mine  ? 

All  My  disciples  flie ;  fear  puts  a  barre 
Betwixt  My  friends  and  Me.      They  leave  the 

starre 
That  brought  the  Wise  Men  of  the  East  from 

far  re. 
Was  ever  grief  like  Mine  ?  • 


96  DAILY  HYMNS. 

The  priests  and  rulers  all  false  witnesse  seek 
'Gainst    Him    who   seeks    not   life,  but   is   the 

meek 
And  readie  Paschal  Lambe  of  this  great  week. 
Was  ever  grief  like  Mine  ? 

Upon  My  head  a  crown  of  thorns  I  wear; 
For  these  are  all  the  grapes  Sion  doth  bear, 
Though  I  My  vine  planted  and  watered  there. 
"Was  ever  grief  like  Mine  ? 

Then  with  the  reed  they  gave  to  me  before, 
They  strike  My  head,  the  Rock  from  whence 

all  store 
Of  heavenly  blessings  issue  evermore. 
Was  ever  grief  like  Mine  ? 

Yet  since  man's  sceptres  are  as  frail  as  reeds, 
And    thoniie    all    their    crowns,    bloodie   their 

weeds  ; 
I,  who  am  Truth,  turn  into  truth  their  deeds. 
Was  ever  grief  like  Mine  ? 

The  soldiers  also  spit  upon  that  Face 
Which  angels  did  desire  to  have  the  grace, 


WEDNESDAY  BEFORE  EASTER.  97 

And  prophets  once  to  see,  but  found  no  place. 
Was  ever  grief  like  Mine  ? 

Shame  tears  i\Iy  soul.  My  body  many  a  wound  ; 
Sharp  nails  pierce  this,  but    sharper  that  con- 
found ; 
Reproaches  which  are  free,  while  I  am  bound. 
AVas  ever  grief  like  Mine  ? 

Now  heal  thyself,  Physician  ;  now  come  down  I 
Alas  !  I  did  so,  when  I  left  My  crown 
And  Father's  smile  for  you,  to  feel  His  froAvn. 
Was  ever  grief  like  Mine  ? 

Betwixt  two  thieves  I  spend  My  utmost  breath, 
As  he  that  for  some  robberie  suffereth. 
Alas !  what  have  I  stolen  from  you  ?  —  death. 
Was  ever  grief  like  Mine  ? 

They  gave  Me  vinegar  —  mingled  with  gall. 
But  more  with  malice  :  yet,  when  they  did  call, 
With  manna,  angels'  food,  T  fed  them  all. 
Was  ever  grief  like  Mine  ? 
7 


98  DAILY  HYMNS. 

Nay,  after  death  their  spite  shall  further  go ; 
For  they  will  pierce  My  side,  I  full  well  know : 
That  as  sinne  came,  so  sacraments  might  flow. 
Was  ever  grief  like  Mine  ? 

But  now  1  die :  now  all  is  finished  — 
My  woe,  man's  weal :  so  now  I  bow  My  head. 
Only  let  others  say  when  1  am  dead, 
Never  was  grief  like  Mine ! 

Georgk  Hekbert. 


THURSDAY  BEFORE  EASTER. 

T3READ  of  the  world,  in  mercy  broken  ! 
-■-^     Yrine  of  the  soul,  in  mercy  shed  ! 
By  whom  the  words  of  life  were  spoken, 
And  in  whose  death  oiir  sins  are  dead. 


Look  on  the  heart  by  sorrow  broken, 
Look  on  the  tears  by  sinners,  shed, 

And  be  Thy  feast  to  us  the  token, 
That  by  Thy  grace  our  souls  are  fed  ! 
Bishop  Heher. 


aooD^rnin.iY 


nr'^HE  blessed  Cross  shines  now  to    us  where 
-^  once  the  Saviour  bled  ; 

Love  made  Ilim  victim  there  for  us.  and  there 
His  blood  was  shed. 


And  with  his  wounds  our  wounds    He    healed, 

and  washed  our  sins  away. 
And  rescued  from  the  raging  wolf  the  lost  and 

helpless  prey. 

There,  with    transfixed    palms,   He    hung,   and 

saved  the  world  from  loss. 
And  closed  the  bitter  way  of  death    by  dying 

on  the   Cross  I 

Those  hands  were  pierced  with  cruel  nails,  fixed 

till  His  dying  breath  — 
The  hand  that  rescued  Paul    from    crime,  and 

Peter  once  from  death  ! 


GOOD-FRIDAY.  101 

O  rich  unci  fruitful  branches  I  O  sweet  and  no- 
ble Tree ! 

What  new  and  precious  fruit  hangs  for  the  world 
on  thee  ; 

Whose  fragrance  breathes  the  breath  of  life  into 

the  silent  dead  — 
Gives    life    to   those    from    whom,    long   since, 

Earth's  pleasant  light  had  fled  I 

No  summer  heat  has  power  to  scorch  who    in 

thy  shadow  rest; 
No  moonlioht  chill  can  harm  at  nioht.  no  bum- 

ing  noon  molest. 

Planted  beside  the  water-flood,  unshaken  is  thy 
root  ; 

Thy  branch  shall  never  fall  nor  fade,  all  sea- 
sons bear  thy  fruit. 

For  round  thine  arms  entwining  is  the  true  and 

living  Vine, 
And  from   that   blood-stained   stem    distils   the 

new  and  heavenly  wine ! 

V.  FORTUNATUS. 


EASTER- EVEN. 

BEHIND  the  silent  tomb 
Broods  the  dark  night  of  gloom  ; 
Beyond  it,  seas  of  light 
Dazzle  the  straining  sight  ; 
Between,  in  beauty  lies 
The  rest  of  Paradise. 

There  from  the  aching  heart 
Shall  weariness  depart ; 
There  sorrow  finds  its  balm. 
Deep  peace,  bright,  tireless  calm. 
Back  in  forgotten  years 
Lie  trouble,  toil,  and  tears. 

Through  that  dark  Gate  of  Death, 
Parted  by  but  a  breath. 
The  Saviour  bids  us  come. 
And  find  with  Him  a  home. 
He  is  the  Star  to  light 
The  shade  of  its  calm  night. 


EAS  TER-E  VEN.  103 

What  bowers  of  amaranth  bloom 
Beyond  that   empty  tomb, 
What  song  of  welcome  swells 
After  earth's  sad  farewells, 
Each  for  himself  shall  know  — 
But  never  here  below  ! 

As  yet  we  only  wait 

Beside  that  dreadful  Gate  ; 

Hear  it  swing  to  and  fro. 

As,  one  by  one,  we  go ; 

See  sometimes  through  it  gleam 

Glories  of  which  v/e  dream. 

So  we  say  o'er  and  o'er, 
"  The  Lord  has  gone  before." 
He  knows  which  way  is   best; 
All  paths  lead  to  our  rest. 
Sunset  of  earthly  skies 
Is  morn  of  Paradise ! 

A.  G.  R. 


EASTER-DA  V. 


TUK  Day  of  Life  is  dawning!   the    (iate  of 
Glory   stands 
Opened    wide    for    the    Conqueror  —  thronged 

by  His  angel  bands. 
The  eastern  skies  are  brilliant  with  a  flood  of 


crimson  light, 


The  Morning  bursts  triumphant  from  the  fet- 
ters of  the  Night ; 

And  all  creation's  anthem  joins  the  chorus  from 
above, 

"  Christ  has  risen  —  He  is  risen  !  "  't  is  the  fes- 
tal sonof  of  Love. 


Oh  what  path  of  light  leads  upward  from  that 

silent,  cheerless  tomb  ! 
From  the  crown  of  thorns  what   roses;   round 

the  Cross  wliat  lilies  bloom ! 
What  an  arch  of  glory  beameth  o'er  the  chasms 

that  divide 


EASTER- DAY.  105 

All  the  sorrows  of  the  Passion  from  this  ra- 
diant Easter-tide  ! 

Strange  that  clouds  so  long  were  shrouded 
round  that  fair,  life  giving  Sun  I 

But  all  darkness  now  is  over,  for  the  reign  of 
death  is  done. 


So  our  Easter  morning  conieth,  heralded  by  joy- 
ful psalms  ; 

And  we  sing  with  white-robed  angels,  and  we 
wave  the  conquering  palms  ; 

For  the  victory  is  ours,  though  not  ours  the 
bloody  strife  : 

By  His  pain  our  peace  is  purchased  ;  by  His 
death,  our  endless  life. 

But  the  Ransomer  and  ransomed  shall  together 
lise  and  shine  ; 

His  the  Crown,  our  souls  the  jewels,  and  His 
Cross  the  Throne  divine. 

See  yon  visitants  descending  from  those  cloud- 
less morning  skies,  — 

Faith,  forever  pointing  upward ;  Hope,  with 
heavenward  lifted  eyes; 


106  DAILY  HYMNS. 

Patience,  with  her  staff  of  comfort ;  Love,  with 

ardent,  wistful  gaze,  — 
Easter  angels  sent  to  guide  us,  in    earth's   few 

and  evil  days, 
Through  the  tomb  where  once  He   slumbered, 

through  all  shadow  and  all  sin. 
To  the  Home  where  He  is  waiting,  where  with 

Him  we  enter  in. 

Wherefore  then,  O  heart !  be  troubled  ?  why,  O 

trembling  soul  !  cast  down  ? 
If  to  thee  the  Cross  is  given,  He  will  give  thee 

too  the  Crown. 
Lo !  the  red   dawn    breaketh   grandly  o'er   the 

battle-field  of  life  ! 
What  deep  joy  is  born  of  sorrow !  what  sweet 

rest  succeeds  lo  strife  ! 
For  the  eye  that  gazes   upward   sees   no    dim, 

uncertain  ray  — 
Christ  unveils  all    Pleaven    before    us    on    this 

glorious  Easter-Day. 

Then  to  Him  be  thanks  and  honor.  Sing  aloud 
with  heart  and  voice  ! 


EASTER-DAY.  107 

When  the  mighty  Foe  is  fallen  shall  the  con- 
querors not  rejoice  ? 

Pardon  all  our  earthly  discords,    0    benignant 
King  of  Saints  ! 

Strengthen  Thou  our  feeble  praises,  hush   our 
faltering  complaints  I 

Till  with  Angels  and  ^^rchangels  we  shall  mag- 
nify Thy  grace, 

And  shall  rise,  as  Thou  hast  risen,    to   behold 
Thee  face  to   face. 

A.  G    R. 


